


Two's Good, Three's Better?

by DemonAngelSakina



Series: Two's Good, Three's Better? [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Assassin - Freeform, Established Relationship, Ghosthounds, Human, M/M, Mage, Slash, Werewolf, necromancer - Freeform, preslash, prethreesome, unhealthy relationship, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 20:10:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14220855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonAngelSakina/pseuds/DemonAngelSakina
Summary: "He's hot for ya, ya know?"A non-commital grunt from further in the dimly-lit room was the only answer received...but it was far from a deterrent."Ya know, the new kid--that pretty necromancer."~Or...When your werewolf wants a threesome, potentially permanently, what's a vampire to do?





	Two's Good, Three's Better?

**Author's Note:**

> Officially this is second in this series, but the actual first piece "Pain"--on my deviantart account--is not something I feel like posting here since it is much older than the rest of the pieces in the series.  
> Michael and 'Rex' are the unhealthy relationship in the tag as they do practice a rather unsafe variant of BDSM--which will not be shown in this story--and are toxic to eachother, but weirdly go together.

"He's hot for ya, ya know?"

A non-committal grunt from further in the dimly-lit room was the only answer received...but it was far from a deterrent.

"Ya know, the new kid--that pretty necromancer." The slate-haired man said from his position, barefoot and sitting in the window sill--a stolen bottle of dark ale in one large, scarred and calloused hand; he looked back from his view out the window and focused on the lean, white-haired man hunched over the pieces of, one of two, Desert Eagles spread out on a silken cloth on the bed. The other male didn't look up from his work--dark hands moving quickly to clean, oil, and replace each piece needed as the weapon began taking shape once more.

Just looking reminded the man at the window far too much of all of the other talents those deft hands were capable off--tearing foes to blood-soaked ribbons...snapping necks, bones, and joints with a precision and silence that was priceless to any assassin worth their salt...and, most importantly, getting them both off in all the best ways possible as many times as possible.

What did it say about him, that he was getting turned on faster than a damned light switch simply by watching the gunslinger's hands as he did basic maintenance on a gun?

Probably nothing very flattering.

"I'm tellin' ya, ya blood-suckin' leech: the kid's got it bad for ya." A teasing grin stretching crookedly on his scarred lips as he spoke in a low voice--his accent, husky and hard to place after so many centuries, clinging heavily to his words. "Why, I don't know. Cold-ass shithead like ya--what could anyone eva' see?"

"You clearly see enough that you continue with our arrangement, Fleabag." 

Damn that voice--tones rich as velvet and dripping with sin to the point that all but a few completely missed the poison; some days it simply wasn't fair that his own voice was so roughed up--too many cigarettes and too much hard liquor over the centuries--in comparison. The scarred man raked his fingers back into his neck-length mess of hair, then took another swig from his bottle and turned jade-colored eyes back to the courtyard below. "Yeah....well ya a crazy bastard, but I like the way ya fuck me."

"If you are going to quote, and mutilate, obnoxious song lyrics at me...I suppose I have to give you the time of day." The white-haired man said as he appeared at the other side of the window sill--his steps not even making a sound, regardless of the leather boots that he still wore--and rested a broad shoulder on the frame, his hip-length hair in a tight braid and draped around his neck like a scarf. "At least until I recall where exactly I left that damned gag."

"Probably knocked unda the bed last night." The tall, lanky man said with a dismissive shrug before taking a particularly large drink of his pilfered alcohol. "Probably next ta the whip an' the shackles. Ya weren't exactly on ya game last night."

"You were not complaining, imbecile."

"Eh...true that."

What a pair they were--mismatched in so many ways; some days he had to wonder how they went from openly disgusted with eachother's existence to mutually-tolerant professionals to casual semi-friends with serious benefits to...well, whatever the hell they were now. Neither one of them ever felt right calling the other their 'lover'--at least when the other was in earshot or anything aside from fully unconscious.

"Elaborate on why you have this ridiculous notion that the boy has an interest in me, Rex."

Rex smirked at that--if he was trying to wax philosophical about this mess of a 'relationship', then he was nowhere near drunk enough--and wiped his mouth with the back of his fist. "'S simple really. The nose knows."

Sharp, blood-red eyes leveled on the shaggy-haired man in an all-too familiar and--while sexy as hell--no longer intimidating glare; a dark skinned hand rose and grasped firmly to front of the seated male's navy blue wifebeater, jerking the taller of the pair forward so sharply that Rex was honestly surprised that he'd kept his grip on the bottle in his hand.

"A'right...calm down, Michael. I'm not fuckin' wit' ya." Rex said--calm and casual--as he held up his free hand in an attempt to placate the other. "Look, yeah--kid's scent just spikes wit' 'please bend me over and fuck me raw' every time ya either in the room or he sees ya. But ya ever noticed he don't meet ya eyes--"

"Not many people look me in the eyes normally, you buffoon." Michael said with a roll of his eyes--released Rex and settling back to brush dust from the shoulders of his ivory-colored button-down. "You forget. Outside of this room, I always wear sunglasses."

"Hard ta forget. Always start singin' "Sunglasses At Night" when I see ya." Rex couldn't help his smirk--he was going to hurt for this later, but what could he say? The pain was so damn sweet. "But anyway...the pup's scent's a dead giveaway--pretty sure half the castle knows by now...he won't look ya in the eyes even wit' the shades, an'--my trump card on this--heard him actually grumblin' 'bout it when he was playin' fetch wit' his hounds yesterday."

The pair looked at eachother in silence...then, with a playful tilt of his head, the 'werewolf' looked out the window, encouraging the vampire to do the same.  
======  
Outside, making a round in the half-moon lit courtyard, the twenty-year-old mage walked--ornate staff strapped to his back and closely followed by his five ghastly hounds. A firm scowl had settled on his richly tanned features as his arms folded over his chest--pulling the thick black leather of his longcoat tight--in an attempt to shield himself from the rapidly encroaching autumn chill. With a huff, he blew several strands of dark brown hair out of his face--seemingly weighing in on if he needed to trim up the undercut look that he was now favoring.

Leather boots crunched on wind-strewn leaves--accompanied by the clattering of bones on cobblestone paving from the hounds. He stopped and extended a slim hand--a fond smile, that readily reached pale silver-blue eyes, appeared on his face as he proceeded to pet one of the creatures' heavy skulls.

The hounds--once large wardogs of a time long past, were now large skeletal beasts with shadows making up the mass beneath their bones and cores of red-hot flames. Their empty sockets were alight with eternal flame but, for all their fearsomeness--all it took was a single word or even a small gesture from the young man for the beasts to rend apart an entire squadron of enemies without stopping--they behaved as they were nothing more than beloved family pets.

He knelt down and each hounds nuzzled their frozen skulls to his face and shoulders, two bumping at the intricately set silver 'bones' sewn to the cuff of his coat--wanting and receiving the praises their young master gave so freely to them; one nudged into his chest--jangling the silver and gold amulets hanging around his neck and almost getting broken teeth caught on the blood-red silk of his tunic-like shirt. A quiet laugh escaped him as he wrapped his arms around the beast's shadowy neck and hugged it as if it were a childhood stuffed toy.  
======  
"...Pretty easy on the eyes, don't ya think?"

Michael said nothing in return, merely watching the young necromancer. Rex glanced at his partner from the corner of his eye. "Ya thinkin' 'bout it now. What it'd be like havin' me an' him at ya beck and call?"

"And whatever gives you that idea, mongrel?"

"Look on ya face. That's ya 'I'm plannin' somethin' ya gonna love an' hate in the same breath' face." Rex smirked, looking away from the rather sweet--and terrifying to most--scene below. "If ya wanna bring him in, I ain't gonna complain. Might be fun...ya playin' wit' both of us, orderin' us to perform for ya while ya watch--betcha would get a kick outta playin' voyeur an' havin' me fuck him at ya command. Oh...or havin' me watch as ya play wit' him, or him watchin' ya play wit' me--could open up all sorts of fun 'ideas'."

The eyebrow waggle at the end--in retrospect--may have been a bit much...but, eh, what the hell.

"Is a threesome some fantasy of yours, mutt, or do I simply no longer satisfy your needs." Michael said, turning fully to level his irritated glare on the 'werewolf' who merely smirked wider as the shorter male responded to his needling.

"Not really...but I'm game for anythin'." Rex said as he dropped one denim-covered leg to the floor and purposefully set the now-empty bottle high on his thigh and practically on his hip; he draped his free arm onto the raised knee of the leg still bent up on the heavy stone of the window. "Unless ya goin' soft an'..."

Before the next words of his taunt could escape his lips, one of the vampire's claw-tipped hands had come up to press against his throat--causing him to arch his neck and rest his head back against the framework. Michael moved in close--knocking the bottle away from lax fingers as he leaned down and brushed lethal fangs over the seated male's lips. "I will take your idea under consideration...but for now..."

He stood straight and pulled, Rex rising quickly with the hand still resting on his throat; the vampire lead him from the window and further into their room, his voice dropping to a low growl that brought out that husky accent like no other, was like velvet sliding over a garrote--and doing everything right with the taller man's libido.

"...We play."


End file.
